Janine

My husband is my Rock. He gave me this letter he wrote to me the week my sister died. He lost his father 17 years ago and his Grandmother in the spring of 2006. Yet even with his great understanding, I hold back. On Losing a Loved One It's a hard thing. And it hurts. It hurts really bad. It is the kind of hurt that feels like it will never go away. In fact, I don't think it ever does really go away. The hurt occupies a small place in your heart and becomes a permanent part of your life. At first, the hurt is there almost every minute and every hour. And then one day, it retreats to it's room for a short while. The days of your life begin to move forward again. The hurt still lives there and it comes out at the oddest times. A picture, a song, even the words of Sponge Bob can bring it out. Moments which have no understandable relevance can stab through your heart and bring a tear to your eye. And it hurts. I do not welcome these moments, But I have come to believe that the pain is not always a bad thing. They say that time heals all wounds. I have found that seventeen years is not enough time. Perhaps there is not enough time in the world to heal some wounds. But with the hurt comes remembrance. And with remembrance comes memories of love and joy and companionship. Memories of a loved one that is sorely missed but never forgotten. A loved one that now has a permanent place in your heart. -RLW- Janine

My sister died November 5th 2006, she was 35 years old. It still seems impossible. She is the baby out of ten of us and she also leaves behind 3 young children and her husband. She was diagnosed with fibromyalgia two years ago. She had steadily gotten worse and a week before she died, a butterfly rash appeared on her face. Lupus was diagnosed and she had an appointment the following Monday with a specialist. She died Sunday night. Every time I drive the interstate I re-live the drive to the hospital when I got the call that she had been taken from home in an ambulance. I remember praying to God that she was OK. I remember feeling that she was already gone. When they told me she “had passed”, I had to see for myself. I keep her picture clearly visible in my bedroom to wipe the memory of the cold ER room and the tubes and bruises all over her body. I want to scream at the people who tell me I am lucky to have such a big family to fill the emptiness.We are still ten, but the last one is only sweet memories and nothing can fill the hole that has been left. I don’t eat, I’m not hungry. I don’t sleep very well and I have quit dreaming. I used to always remember my dreams. I don’t know if my mind is blocking them out or if just don’t dream anymore. At work I am a drone with no program to follow. I feel physically ill, tired and I ache. I have good days where I actually accomplish something, I have good moments where I am happy and then bad ones, like now. This week her husband told my mother he was moving back home. Half way across the county my nieces and nephew will be raised by strangers. They have lost their mother, their home, their school and all stability that remained. I know he is still in shock & denial, but I also know it is wrong. He moved out here to get away from his family. How can he subject his own children to what he ran away from? All of my sister’s belongings and her ashes will go with him. I feel like she is dying all over again. I am so full of emotion that I feel numb.